


A Moment’s Surrender

by watermelonikaz



Category: Holostars, Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Babudon implied if you squint, First Dates, Hanakishi, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Top!Miyabi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonikaz/pseuds/watermelonikaz
Summary: Temma had agreed to Miyabi’s proposition easily, but maybe he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to. If anything, he seemed to think Miyabi just wanted to hang out. As friends. Total bros. On valentines, of all dates.
Relationships: Hanasaki Miyabi/Kishido Temma
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	A Moment’s Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [takamina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takamina/gifts).



> For Zeph's Top!Miyabi agenda and for kiru whenever it's 1AM.

_“The awful daring of a moment's surrender_

_Which an age of prudence can never retract._

_By this, and only this, we have existed.”_

T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Was it normal to feel like puking on a first date?

Miyabi was trying his best to keep it together, but even supposedly simple things like walking to the station was making him feel like he was about to fall apart. Every nerve on his body was on high alert, and while a part of him was so sure that this was due to lack of sleep -- he'd tossed and turned in bed the whole night, leaving him with only four hours of actual rest -- the other part was screaming at him that this was due to what he was about to do.

He'd never felt this on edge before. Maybe he needed to get himself checked. Maybe he could turn around and run away from all this, call Temma and tell him that something had come up--

"Hi Temma, I have to cancel our date," Miyabi muttered to himself, even as he walked even faster to try and sabotage his own attempts to run away. "Why? Because I'm dying. Am already dead, in fact. This is a recording of my--"

His phone vibrated in his pocket, effectively cutting him off. Miyabi fished the device out and thumbed his way to the notification without breaking his stride. It was only when he brought the phone closer to his face to properly make out the words -- because the first time he'd read them, they did not register as _real_ \-- that he stopped walking, his mouth falling open as his mind went completely blank.

_I got out on the wrong stop so I'm going to be late!! Sorry!_

_This... this jerk!_ Miyabi thought to himself, the annoyance overriding his earlier apprehension. Did Temma not understand how important this whole thing was? How much gaming time Miyabi had to push aside in order to do research on how to not screw this up? How absolutely mortifying it was to be checking out of the bookstore with BL material suggested by _Shien_?!

Dammit, did Temma even know this was a date at all?!

* * *

"Do you want to watch a movie and have dinner with me?"

Miyabi had managed to say it without stuttering, but only because he’d been watching Oga pat a drunk Temma on the head affectionately like a dog sometime before this. He felt a bit like he was staking a claim as he said it. He’d gotten close to Temma first and it wasn’t right that everyone else seemed to be progressing their relationship with the blond much faster than Miyabi himself.

Was it because Miyabi wasn’t very aggressive? No one else seemed to have a problem going up to Temma and dropping formalities around him. And Temma himself -- the idiot -- didn’t seem to mind either.

“Temchan is so cute,” Astel said later in passing, and Miyabi didn’t know if the ugly feeling in his chest then was from overworking himself with the sports they’d been playing or from the possessiveness that always seemed to come up when everyone else seemed to be cozying up to Temma.

“Yes,” Miyabi agreed, though inwardly he was already panicking. He’d have to make a move soon or he’d be left behind, wouldn’t he?

* * *

Temma had agreed to Miyabi’s proposition easily, but maybe he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to. If anything, he seemed to think Miyabi just wanted to hang out. As friends. Total bros. On valentines, of all dates.

As if Miyabi hadn’t poured many hours of painful preparation into this whole thing with the intention of having a perfect first date.

Temma’s view on the whole meet-up was apparent when he showed up thirty minutes late to the theater and spent another fifteen minutes explaining to Miyabi how he'd somehow gotten lost on a route he'd taken a hundred times before. Something about getting distracted by flowers -- since when was Temma sentimental over flowers?! -- and having to go to the toilet but not knowing where it was.

Whatever.

Temma was talking and Miyabi was already zoning out. Or getting annoyed. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, exactly, but he was pretty sure a first date wasn't supposed to irritate you. It was supposed to be sweet and happy, right? Had he messed up somewhere along the way? Maybe asking Temma to watch a movie with him and to have dinner on _valentines_ wasn't a clear enough indication of his intentions. Maybe he really should have brought that chocolate Rikka kept raving about. Maybe he should've picked a better movie or a better restaurant.

Maybe he should've dressed up like a girl.

_What's it going to take, Temma?!_ He inwardly yelled, though outwardly, he tried to maintain his smiling demeanor as they went about the rest of their day together.

* * *

Either Temma was incredibly dense or he was just straight as a ruler. Miyabi had tried every subtle thing in all the things he’d read, from laying his head on Temma’s shoulder -- which caused Temma to suggest they both go home so Miyabi could sleep -- to trying a sultry look that was supposedly meant to make a person want to jump you.

“Do you need to go to the toilet?” Temma had asked curiously upon seeing Miyabi’s expression, and Miyabi could only laugh awkwardly in return.

He was just about to give up completely -- if Temma was this stupid, then surely Miyabi wasn’t going to lose him anytime soon to another person -- when Temma seemed to have an epiphany as they worked through their dessert.

“Miyabi, those flowers I saw,” Temma began, cutting a piece off his chocolate cake, chewing, and then swallowing -- he really loved to make Miyabi wait today, didn’t he? -- before continuing. “I only got off at that stop because they reminded me of you. And I wanted to take a picture to show you.”

“Me?” Miyabi asked, his voice coming out more shrill than he’d intended. He’d wanted to seem perfect today -- the ideal partner for anyone to fall in love with -- but Temma seemed determined to ruin all of his plans, even unintentionally. “You were thinking of me?”

“Yep,” Temma replied cheerfully. His smile was so bright and infectious that for a moment Miyabi forgot that the blond had ruined everything. Temma pulled out his phone, seemed to tinker with it a bit, and then slid it across the table to Miyabi. “Here, check them out. They’re pink.”

The image was a little bit blurry -- apparently, Temma did _not_ have a talent for taking pictures -- but the flowers were indeed pink. Miyabi would’ve said something about Temma associating him with the color pink when he should’ve thought of Rikka instead, but he didn’t.

His mind was a bit caught up on the fact that Temma had been thinking of _him_ so much that he’d gotten lost on what should’ve been a familiar route.

The knowledge boosted Miyabi’s courage more than it should’ve, really.

* * *

Getting Temma into his house after dinner was easy. Miyabi probably should’ve felt guilty for taking advantage of Temma’s misplaced kindness, but he didn’t. He’d slyly lied his way through an excuse -- he needed help moving a couch, just a few minutes of labor and Temma could go home after -- and tried to follow through the moment the blond was inside his home.

If Temma knew what he was up to, he gave no indication whatsoever. He gamely helped Miyabi move the couch and then agreed to stay for some drinks afterwards. Miyabi was desperate by then -- especially since Temma seemed to be messaging _Astel_ throughout their drinking -- and found himself picking up his own phone to contact Shien for advice.

For some odd reason Miyabi didn’t want to think too deeply about, it was Roberu who replied to his message, a different window popping up with the bar master’s name and picture.

_“Try getting him drunk,”_ Roberu’s message read, and Miyabi could already hear the other man’s laughter in his head as he read it.

No more than five seconds later, Shien’s window flashed with its own message. _“Then jump him! Good luck!”_

* * *

Getting Temma drunk was an ordeal. In fact, Miyabi was pretty sure _he_ was drunk before Temma was, no matter how impossible that sounded.

“Why do you keep messaging Astel on our fucking date?” Miyabi asked in frustration when they were two bottles in, only belatedly remembering that some people had difficulty getting it up when they were drunk. What if he was one of those people? What if Temma was one of those people? 

What in the hell was he even doing, taking advice from _Shien and Roberu_?!

Temma blinked owlishly at him from across the table, confusion and then belated realization slowly coming across his face. He lowered his phone and placed it on the table, his mouth opening to speak.

“Yes, today was a date,” Miyabi hissed before Temma could ask the question. Apparently, he was some kind of angry drunk. He should remember this for the future and take care not to go too far next time. “It’s _Valentines_ , Temma. I was trying to get serious with you.”

“Miyabi,” Temma said slowly, and for some reason, the idiot was _smiling_. “If that’s what you were going for, you could’ve just kissed me.”

* * *

Temma had done this before.

Miyabi didn't know why that was the thought that floated to the surface of his mind as he kissed Temma, his mouth pressing against the blond's roughly. He felt the other man's lips open and he slid his tongue in, this time consciously trying to be gentler about it. He tried to mimic the things he had watched beforehand, tried to incorporate all those complicated things he'd read about online which were said to increase pleasure.

It was stupid, Miyabi knew. His inexperience was probably already glaringly obvious, but he'd wanted this -- started this -- and had tried to prepare for it as best as he could.

But Temma had done this before, hadn't he? That was why he was letting Miyabi take the lead, his kissing slow and lazy in return. Like an expert, infinitely forgiving of a novice's mistakes. Patiently waiting for the less experienced one to set the pace.

Temma had done this before -- he'd kissed someone else and --

A twisting warmth crawled up from Miyabi's chest and deepened the blush on his cheeks. A slight shudder went through him and he momentarily forgot his earlier resolution to be gentle. He broke the kiss, grabbed Temma by the other man's shoulders, and shoved him down towards the bed, crawling on top of him afterwards to sit on his waist.

"Wow," Temma said, the single word coming out in an exhalation that sounded both amused and proud. "Miyabi--"

"Shut up," Miyabi said, trying to keep his wits about him as he bent down and began another kiss. He couldn't focus. He was forgetting everything he'd studied and planned because he couldn't hear past the thundering of his heart in his ears.

They broke apart, breathed, and kissed again, his mouth heavy and graceless against Temma's. Miyabi felt warm hands come up to touch his face and then bury themselves in his hair, the pads of Temma's fingers massaging gently against his scalp. His hair was messy now, pulled free of its initial arrangement that he'd agonized over for an hour before their date, but Temma didn't seem to mind.

And really, Miyabi couldn't bring himself to care either. Even if he'd specifically tried to fix himself up to look good today. Right now, he didn't really mind. He wasn't worried about his appearance. He was way too jealous to think about things like that.

That was it. That was the feeling that had crept up on him without him even trying to think about it. He was jealous. He didn't know who Temma had kissed before and he really didn't care who it was anymore. He just wanted to erase the blond's memory of whoever it was -- 

Whoever it was that had taught Temma how to kiss like this -- managing to respond gently despite the sloppiness and general mess Miyabi was making -- taught him how to make these soft, unbearably erotic sounds as he pulled Miyabi closer... Miyabi wanted that person gone. Temma liked him now, right? So, it was okay... it was okay to wish for things like that, wasn't it?

The jealousy momentarily pushed away the fear, the nervousness, the hesitation. At the back of his mind, he was still aware of the situation. He was still scared about the direction this was going in. He was still a nervous wreck because he'd never done this before and surely -- damn well surely -- he was going to somehow find a way to mess this up and possibly even ruin their friendship. Heck, maybe Temma was noting down all his mistakes even now--

But, dammit, Miyabi couldn't even think straight anymore. Temma was so close and warm... and in the end, he was still a man who couldn't just brush these things off because it was like a dream finally come true...

Forgetting his inexperience that had embarrassed him before, he moved. He slid his hands down Temma's sides down to his waist, squeezing there as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Temma's chin and worked his way down to the other man's neck, teeth scraping at every inch of exposed skin.

Gentler, he tried to remind himself, but he truly didn't know how to hold back. Maybe men more experienced than him could do it, but this was the first time he'd ever gotten this close to anything approaching a serious relationship--

"Ah shit, Miyabi," Temma groaned and a different feeling went through Miyabi at the sound. More than jealousy, he was now feeling a little bit proud that it was him -- no one else -- getting Temma to make these sounds. He smiled a bit against the side of Temma's neck -- a hesitant smile that barely even showed how happy he was -- stopping to press a fluttery, almost shy kiss against the side of Temma's mouth.

"Say my name again," Miyabi implored, a miniscule amount of neediness making it into his tone. He kissed Temma deeply before the other man could respond, his tongue thoroughly claiming the blond's mouth. When Miyabi pulled away, Temma looked slightly dazed and Miyabi nipped at his bottom lip to bring him back to awareness. 

"Miyabi," Temma said, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he complied. The sound brought more pleasure to Miyabi than it should've. He felt close to bursting with the sudden rush of happiness. 

Temma's hands ran gently through Miyabi's hair, a small smirk quirking at his lips. "I thought you wanted me to shut up?"

"Shut up," Miyabi said automatically, flushing in embarrassment.

"Miyabi," Temma whispered instead of listening to Miyabi's flustered order. His hands traced a heated path down Miyabi's chest and came to rest at his hips. A single finger dipped an inch into Miyabi's jeans but didn't press further. "Can I touch you?"

Miyabi swallowed nervously. Where was this going? ...Who was he kidding, he knew where this was going. He just didn't know why it was going in that direction. Had he still somehow succeeded in implementing all the seduction techniques that had flown out of his brain the moment they'd started kissing?

"A-alright," Miyabi said, his hands coming over Temma's and pulling them away gently. "Let me do it."

He unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down and exposing his underwear. Temma watched him, blue eyes darkening with what could only be described as lust. For a moment, Miyabi’s breath caught at the sight. No one had ever looked at him that way before.

"Now?" Temma asked softly, his hands reaching out. Miyabi nodded his permission in a jerky, nervous movement, both of his hands cupping Temma’s face as he bent to kiss him again.

As they kissed, Temma kept a hand on Miyabi’s waist to steady him, the other hand bypassing Miyabi’s underwear to slide in and grasp at his throbbing length. Miyabi let out a groan, the needy sound swallowed in the general mess of tongue and lips pressing desperately against each other.

He shifted his hips more into Temma’s hand. It was a silent plea that he did not have the ego to voice. Temma obliged him wordlessly, beginning to stroke slowly, a warm thumb grazing over the slit and spreading the precum from there, fingers circling just beneath the head with purpose and then tightening around him pleasantly as they moved in a steady rhythm up and down his cock. 

“Shit,” Miyabi cursed, the kiss breaking as he buried his head in Temma’s neck and pressed his lips to the skin there, tasting the saltiness of the sweat that was already building from their activities.

It shouldn’t have felt different or better than when he touched himself, but it did, and Miyabi was losing himself as it continued. Temma was whispering soft encouragements into his hair, pressing butterfly kisses to whatever inch of skin he could reach given their position, and Miyabi was coming completely undone without meaning to.

“Temma,” Miyabi moaned, his entire body now collapsed on top of the blond, legs spreading wider to somehow give Temma more access. “Faster.”

“Turn around,” Temma replied, voice strained. He gave instructions in a tone that seemed close to breaking, and Miyabi found himself positioned in a way wherein he had his back pressed to Temma’s chest, hips bucking upwards into Temma’s right hand even as he felt the blond’s own hardness dig into his ass.

This position was easier, Miyabi found. He pushed down his own underwear, freeing himself and gaining just a little bit of relief from the heat that he now felt throughout his body. Temma’s hand adjusted, fingers tracing an almost reverent line down the underside of Miyabi’s cock before he renewed his grip around the whole length and increased his pacing as Miyabi had requested.

Temma stroked Miyabi faster, his left hand turning Miyabi’s face towards his so they could kiss again. Miyabi tried to respond properly, but his lips now felt swollen and he felt close to some kind of precipice -- just a little more and he’d reach it -- so all he could do was grasp the sheets at their sides tightly, his trembling body at the mercy of Temma’s hand as he let the blond thoroughly claim his mouth.

Relief, when it finally did come, was intense. Miyabi screamed despite himself, and Temma managed to catch most of the discharge on his hand, even as he kissed Miyabi gently in what was probably an attempt to take the edge off.

“Miyabi?” Temma asked quietly when Miyabi had come down from the high of orgasm and shifted so he could press his face into Temma’s chest.

Miyabi suddenly felt like sleeping now, the tension of the entire day seeping from him and leaving him exhausted but nonetheless content. A part of him knew he shouldn’t leave Temma unsatisfied like this -- he could still feel the blond’s hardness digging into him -- but he felt like Temma deserved a little bit of punishment for being such an insufferable dunce the whole day.

“Cuddle me,” Miyabi muttered, adjusting his position for just that.

Temma made a sound of complaint, but seemed to think his frustrations were better left unverbalized when Miyabi jabbed an elbow into his stomach.

“Fine,” Temma said under his breath, his arms coming around Miyabi and pulling him into a warm hug. “But this is your cum you’re getting on your shirt not mine.”

“Shut up, Temma.”


End file.
